


Stay With Me

by twii2ted_8333335



Series: Prostitute Stan AU [4]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Boys Kissing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Kissing, M/M, Making Love, Sibling Incest, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 12:57:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5417939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twii2ted_8333335/pseuds/twii2ted_8333335
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ford nearly thanked God that his roommate was asleep, though he was a little upset to find him at his desk and not in bed. Not that he was one to talk. He barely knew what a bed was. As Stan discarded his shoes at the front door and shed his jacket to hang up on the knob, Ford draped a spare blanket over Fiddleford's shoulders. The college student murmured something under his breath, fingers curling around the edge of the blanket. </p><p>"You picked a cute one, Fordsy." Ford practically jumped out of his skin at Stan's low voice by his ear. "He's got a kinda feminine face sleeping like that though."</p><p>"Not everyone can have a chest full of hair and a strong jaw like you, Stanley."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay With Me

**Author's Note:**

> So I got two requests for a continuation of Months After the Fact, one which included Ford convincing Stan to stay longer with a night of love making  
> I didn't cry  
> A lot

Ford nearly thanked God that his roommate was asleep, though he was a little upset to find him at his desk and not in bed. Not that he was one to talk. He barely knew what a bed was. As Stan discarded his shoes at the front door and shed his jacket to hang up on the knob, Ford draped a spare blanket over Fiddleford's shoulders. The college student murmured something under his breath, fingers curling around the edge of the blanket. 

"You picked a cute one, Fordsy." Ford practically jumped out of his skin at Stan's low voice by his ear. "He's got a kinda feminine face sleeping like that though."

"Not everyone can have a chest full of hair and a strong jaw like you, Stanley."

"Mm, you love it." Ford sighed a little as lips pressed to the side of his neck, under his chin and against his pulse point, over and over again. His eyes lidded slowly, a small gasp escaping him at the first sign of teeth on his skin. When Fiddleford stirred again, Ford gently pushed at his brother, urging him back towards his room. 

The door shut and they locked lips once more, and while Stan wanted to resume the fast pace from earlier, when Ford pushed him against the light post, he found himself calming down to follow this slower, sweeter pace his twin was setting now. His eyes fluttered shut as twelve fingers pushed into his hair and pressed against his scalp. Massaging him, almost. 

"I'm not a customer," he heard Ford murmur against his lips, and he flinched a little hearing that, "There's no need to rush. There's no need to do anything, if you don't want to." He pulled back to look at Stan, keeping his hands in his hair, fingers still combing through the strands. His eyes looked glossy again, his expression one of shock, like he couldn't believe Ford had said that. Obviously choosing his own path hadn't been a priority in a long time. 

"Stanley?" 

"You tryna make me cry again, Poindexter?" Stan's palm rubbed at his eye and he started sniffling again, honestly trying to hold back. Ford sat him down on the bed, kissing him softly again. He didn't stop when Stan's hands locked behind his neck, pulling him closer, and he didn't stop when he tasted fresh tears in the kisses again. "Guess you are tryna make me cry. What kinda brother are you?" 

"An incredibly stupid one for letting you fall so far down." 

"C-come on, it was a joke. Don't get all serious on me now," Stan tried to laugh, tried to smile, tried to do something besides letting tears slide down his cheeks and feel exhausted. Ford was cupping his cheeks though, wide hands warm on his skin, comforting, and his thumbs were wiping the wetness from his cheeks again. 

Ford planted kisses all over his twin's face now, lingering lips on damp skin. "I am serious, Stanley. Not all the diplomas in the world could convince me that abandoning you was a smart move. I'm a complete idiot for thinking that turning my back on you, not protecting you like a real brother should, was even remotely close to a good decision. I — I'm no better than our father was that night." 

"Don't say that. God, don't say that. You're nothing like pa was. Least you're giving me a second chance, even — even knowing what I've done." 

"There's nothing wrong with what you've been doing. Well, there is, but not completely. I mean — you've been surviving at least. You've been fighting and not giving up. You've been — " He stopped when he heard weak chuckles from his brother. 

"Why, Ford, are you trying to _rationalize_ this?" 

He stared at Stan, then returned the gentle laughter. "Kind of hard not to try and rationalize what's been keeping you alive for the last couple of months."

They shared another kiss then another and another, Ford gently urging Stan to lay back on his bed. He straddled his brother's hips, fingers gently skirting over his jaw, his neck, his collar. Stan's own hands gripped at the back of Ford's head, fingers tightly wound in the strands of brown hair, keeping them as close as physically possible until they desperately needed air. 

Ford pulled back as he caught his breath, locking eyes with his brother. "Stanley. Let me make love to you." 

Stan made a choked sound, face flushing brightly. "Wha-what?" 

His twin blinked, then repeated himself, "I'd like to make love to you tonight. Now. If that's alright." Stan was red to his ears by now and only seemed to be getting redder. He didn't look angry though, which was a comfort. 

"Do-D'ya gotta say it like that?"

"What? Making love?" A nod. "Yes, I have to say it like that. Because that's what it feels like with you." He cupped his brother's cheeks again, smiling at the way his palm was practically nuzzled, then kissed. "It's not some mindless, animalistic coupling. It's not a one night stand or an organized event. Stanley, when I'm intimate with you, I want you to know that it's different. I want you to know with every touch, every word that I love you. I want you to realize that I'm not having sex with you. I want you to realize on every physical, emotional and spiritual level that I'm making love to you. Now more than ever since you've become rather promiscuous. I just," His voice lowered to a whisper, "I love you so much." The whole time, Ford didn't break eye contact and he saw his twin's eyes water again, watched his lower lip tremble as the words sunk in and registered. 

"So I'll ask again. May I make love to you?"

Stan nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Ford smiled, stroked his cheek to soothe him, then got off of him so they could both start removing their clothes. The silence was new but not unwelcome or uncomfortable. Sometimes words just weren't necessary, especially after so many had been said. 

"I'm assuming you have, ah — uhm — " Ford gnawed at his lip, a little too embarrassed to finish his sentence. Strange how easily his emotions changed when he thought of different parts of coupling. "You know what I mean."

Stan nearly burst into laughter as he fished a small bottle and a wrapped square and tossed them at his brother. The tube smacked his arm and the condom almost stuck to his cheek. 

"Stanley!" The man in question really did burst this time, clutching his bare stomach, and Ford really couldn't stay mad. He picked the items off the floor, made sure they weren't damaged in any way, then started shushing his brother hurriedly when he swore he heard movement outside the room. He heard Fiddleford grumbling sleepily as he passed by the closed door to get to his own room. 

Stan started giggling again when the adrenaline died down. Ford rolled his eyes. "Honestly, you're ridiculous." 

"Yeah, but you love it." His fingers slipped through the hair at the nape of Ford's neck, pulling him back into a chuckled filled kiss. They got comfortable on the bed again slowly but surely, lips locking between movements, hands groping and pinching and guiding until Stan's legs were around his brother's waist and he could feel the heavy erection flush against his rear. Ford rested his forehead on the other's, once again looking at him with those lidded, serious eyes. 

"You're starin' at me, Sixer," Stanley murmured softly. 

"You're beautiful. It's hard not to stare." 

His twin colored again. "Don't you ever get tired of throwing compliments at me?" 

Ford shook his head, "Never. And I mean every one of them. You're beautiful, Lee," He took the bottle of lube back in his hand, trying not to make a face as he coated with fingers in the goopy substance, a lot thinner than what he was used to working with. "Whether you're blushing, or sleeping, or you've had to neglect your personal hygiene for a little while — " Stan flinched both at the words and the finger circling his entrance, slowly relaxing him. Lips kissed at his jaw line and over his neck to ease his self conscious thoughts. " — I will always think you're beautiful." 

Stan made a choked sound again and blamed it on the finger being pushed inside him. "You're — you're bein' awfully sweet, Ford." 

"I suppose I am." Small, shallow thrusts of his finger had his brother squirming a little, wanting more but not wanting to say anything, not wanting to break the mood. "It's just that... I've had a lot of time to think and honestly remember you and I — I've missed you so much, Stanley," Another finger slipped in along side the first. Stan could almost swear he felt a tear or two drop onto his skin where Ford's face was buried against his skin. "I don't want to keep missing you. Please don't make me keep missing you..."

"You — you want me to stay?" 

Ford pulled back to look Stan in the eye again and yes, he was crying a little. Not the full on blubbering Stan wanted to do despite the fingers pushing and spreading inside him but his eyes were damp. "Of course I want you to stay. Fiddleford won't mind as long as you don't bother him when he's writing an essay. We can get you a safer, steadier job and the extra money would definitely help pay the rent. You can work while I'm in class and when we both come home, we can fix dinner and you can listen to me ramble about quantum theories and pretend to understand my frustrations while I try to understand why you're so angry about idiots at work and we can laugh all the negativity off and curl up in bed together and I can make sure you're warm when you go to sleep instead of out on the streets — " 

Stan kissed him to get him to stop before he really did start sobbing again. He had a feeling he could've kept going for a while. The silence returned, replaced by their small gasps for air, the occasional wet press of their lips and the awfully gross squelch from the lube when Ford pushed a third finger inside his twin. 

"Please stay with me," Ford whispered again, likely not expecting Stan to hear him.

"C'mon, Sixer, I already got enough regrets in life. Don't make me regret tonight too."

"I'm not trying to make you regret. I'm trying to make it better for you, Stanley."

"You got three fingers shoved up inside me and they're really close to touchin' somethin' really nice in there and that's good enough for me." 

"I'm being serious."

"So am I." 

"Lee," Ford sighed, ended up pulling his fingers out despite the protests from his brother and from his own thoughts. "There's nothing wrong with accepting a little help. Especially from family."

"There was in pa's eyes," he grumbled in retort.

"Well, he's not here right now. Besides, do you think he'd be any more accepting of your job choice?" No response to that. "I know mom would rather see you accept defeat as you seem to see it as, and live with me for a while, rather than have you struggling every night to even eat." 

"I eat plenty! In case you hadn't noticed, I've actually gained weight. People will apparently pay money for that." He never complained. Free meal and sex? Fine by him.

"I believe it. But that's not the point. The point is, don't you think it's time to stop running and flailing and maybe try to get a set place in life? I know you want to try to do it on your own but — but damn it, Lee, there's no harm in trying out my plan is there? In staying with me for a while longer?" 

Stan had to admit, he was a little jealous that Ford could keep such a steady voice even with tears dripping down his cheeks. He really didn't want to see his brother back out on the streets and as much as Stan wanted to prove his family wrong, as much as he wanted to do this on his own, he did want to stay here. He wanted to sleep in a bed and eat what he wanted, when he wanted and he wanted to romp around with Ford and make surprise visits to the school. He wanted to get to know Fiddleford and see what was up with the mysterious roommate. 

Eventually, he nodded. "Okay."

"What?"

"I said okay. I'll stay," his voice cracked a little but he kept speaking, "We'll try it your way for a while, at least until spring. I was not looking forward to winter on the streets even with my car. Sound good?"

"Oh, Stanley," Ford kissed him once more and Stan could feel every bit of love and gratefulness in the soft touch of their lips. "Thank you." Stan let out a shuddering breath as he nodded again, not trusting his voice anymore. 

They almost stopped. They both felt emotionally drained and exhausted and they were close to just curling up in the bed and calling it a night. But Ford wanted one more kiss, which turned into two, then three and soon they were making out again, working themselves up again, and Ford's twelve fingers were stroking his sides, his thighs, spreading his legs. 

"Do you need me to-to prepare you more or — ?" 

"I, I think I'll be good. It wasn't that long ago." 

Ford nodded, shakily put the condom on first — "Don't think I forgot, Stanley." — and lubed up. He did end up pushing two fingers in his brother again, just to be safe, just to make sure he was as relaxed as he could be and ready for this. He didn't want hurt him. 

When he finally, finally pushed into his brother, Stan found it to be incredibly satisfying but for different reasons than what he usually thought. This was his brother. This was the man who loved him despite all the hurtful words they'd exchanged, despite all the decisions he'd made and despite all of his better judgment. The man who loved him despite society and everything they'd been taught. The man who loved him enough to show it through one of the most intimate acts of all time. 

And it was so satisfying to know all of that let alone experience it. 

Stan let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding when Ford's hips were flush against him. His hands gripped at Ford's shoulders and his legs wrapped loosely around his waist. They didn't speak, didn't even look at each other. Ford's face was buried in the crook of Stan's neck again, little puffs of air escaping his parted lips. 

He started moving not long after that, beginning with shallow rolls of his hips and working up to full in and out thrusts. Each one had his twin gasping and whimpering out a quiet, pleasured "Oh"s that he hoped didn't sound fake. It certainly didn't feel fake.

Eventually, Ford began angling his hips and silently thanked muscle memory for reminding him the near exact way his brother enjoyed this, each press inside of him a little deeper than usual and each graze against his prostate had him shuddering and groaning out his twin's name. 

"Stanford, I — "

"I know. Me too." Six fingers drifted between them and wrapped around Stan's leaking cock, pumping him into with his thrusts, even as they lost their rhythm and became more erratic. They reached their peaks together, gasping and panting and whispering each other's names. 

"Wish you'd let me finish," Stan muttered, still trying to catch his breath.

"The mess in my hand says you did," Ford grumbled back, making a face as he cleaned said mess of his hand with a stray towel from the floor. He continued cleaning up, discarding what he needed to. His limbs screamed at him to collapse next to his brother already. He was reaching his limits.

"I meant my sentence, pervert." 

"Oh? What were you going to say?"

"I was gonna say I love you."

Ford stilled, sitting on the side of his bed now. He looked to his brother, saw his nearly closed eyes and the way he was curling up, getting comfortable on his bed. Ford joined him, pulling blankets over them as he gathered his twin into his arms once more. He kissed the back of his neck, holding him close. Partly to keep himself from falling off his bed but mainly because he wanted to be near Stan. Maybe 50/50. 

He chuckled sleepily at his own thoughts. "I love you too, Stanley. Thank you." 

"Thank you, too, Ford. For not... giving up on me." 

Ford laughed again, "Go to sleep already. Dork."

"Nerd." 

"Stanley."

"Stanford."

Their giggles echoed in the room as they drifted into unconsciousness. It was the best night's sleep they'd had in a long while.

Until Ford jolted awake, shouting bloody murder about how he had an essay he still needed to write. Stan groaned into his pillow, pulling it over his head to try and find sleep again. "Good to know you haven't changed much..." 

It earned a smile from his twin, if nothing else.

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna request something too, I got anon open on my blog  
> sinful-shipping.tumblr.com  
> ♡♡♡


End file.
